Night Before the Flight
by HoleynessAndRapier
Summary: For once in history the troublemakers-in-chief of Hogwarts, Fred and George Weasley, tone down a bit in the Easter holidays with the arrival of O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. But the night before their flight to freedom, amidst plans of mischief, consequences are weighed to their decision. Fred, however, has something else in mind: Parting with his silly little crush Hermione Granger.


**Title:** Night Before the Flight

**Author:** HoleynessAndRapier

**Rating:** PG-13 or T

**Summary:** For once in history the troublemakers-in-chief of Hogwarts, Fred and George Weasley, tone down a bit in the Easter holidays with the arrival of O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. But the night before their flight to freedom, amidst plans of mischief, consequences are weighed to their decision. Fred, however, has something else in mind: Parting with his silly little crush Hermione Granger.

**Pairing:** Fred/Hermione

**Spoiler Warnings:** OOTP

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, but J.K. Rowling owns me and us all.

**Notes:** And so I begin again. I loved writing this one-shot fic more than the previous one. For obvious reasons, it's longer and I really did try dwelling deeper on detail and dialogue. What can I say, I just love the two so much and I enjoy writing not-far-from-canon ones. But I enjoy reading the opposite. The sames goes for my liking to writing fluff, but when it comes to reading I like 30% fluff and 70% smut just so you know. When I was writing this, though, Everything Has Changed played (a classmate of mine turned on his playlist) and once the lyrics came on I was near tears at how perfect the song is to my ship that people around me were startled. The song can be applicable the _day_ after this specific _night_ however. Here's the story then! I hope you enjoy it as much as I did, and... please please review! There's nothing like heaven than reviews. *Edited some minor parts, but it's still the same.

* * *

He saw her again. Her, in those astonishing blue robes enough to make blind men see and all the rest to lose breath in a mere second. Her, gliding down the Entrance Hall. Her, dancing as though she never did before at the Yule Ball. It kept bugging him, that memory, as though telling him he should have noticed her more back then. Yet here he was, going mad at a lost cause when all was already too late to begin with.

Fred Weasley fancied Hermione Granger.

And he hated how things were. He loathed having done so. He was disgusted at himself for letting his emotions run wild. Constant distractions were futile. He saw her everyday - at Dumbledore's Army, at the Great Hall, often at the Burrow and Grimmauld Place. And it was all just returning to where it had been. It was driving him mental, like he wasn't mental enough.

The nightly vision, he was sure he was becoming half a Harry judging by the frequent dreams, changed. It changed into something he feared. Alluring, indeed, but he feared being succumbed by it. Fred felt his hand roam freely on skin, electrifying and pale, underneath the clothing. He saw soft lips, dazzling chocolate eyes, bushy hair, a warm body pressed against his, a faint smile, and a flushed face. He saw his fingers graze her cheek. He heard her gasp right before he swooped his head down and bridged the gap between their lips. It was intoxicating like firewhisky, burning like fire itself, and in that exact moment when he thought he was getting lost in the caterwauling of senses and desire... he forced his eyes open.

Fred sucked for air and laid a palm across his head, feeling mystified and furious at himself. He stifled a groan, turned to his side, and raked through his ginger hair. He wasn't certain whether to call the vision a dream or a nightmare. Reluctantly, he settled with fantasy as he calmed his nerves.

Merlin's underpants. He was dreaming perverted images of her. His subconscious, though he was inwardly praying it wasn't his true intentions or his opinion on her, was carving its way to the top for control. The thought itself was highly inappropriate and unacceptable to linger on. Tempting though it was, Fred knew better. She was their friend for crying out loud. Well, not entirely the closest friend, but in between that and an acquaintance. She was a girl, a lady, a young woman ought to be respected that even his subconscious must abide to. She was the one his brother Ron liked (loved, if he had his facts straight).

But he couldn't tell George. What would that bloke for a twin say? Yes, Fred Weasley may be a reputed troublemaker, but not that sort. Surely not that. He may be in constant longing for the ravishing and young recruited women of the Hollyhead Harpies as featured in the last issue of Witch Weekly (he borrowed Ginny's some time ago) that he may wonder whatever's going on underneath their robes, but Hermione Granger was not that kind of woman in the front covers either. She didn't need to be at all. And even if she did, Fred would undergo sacred metanoia and not bother gazing at Witch Weekly again. He'd swear it by George's grave and the Marauders.

He was eighteen. But it wasn't enough of an excuse to tolerate the occurrence. So much for the morally-educated ginger he was.

And Hermione... she was definitely more than a pretty bird.

Just as he was thinking it all through, the bed in front of him creaked and its curtains slid with a quick swooshing sound. George too was awake. Another bed, as though by signal, followed suit. Its owner threw a pillow at the nearby four-poster, and George Weasley snickered in amusement.

"Ow! What the bloody hell, Lee?" complained Fred, flinging the same pillow across to his twin. "What's up with being awake in the middle of the night, anyway?"

"I think, Freddie, Master Lee is famished." explained George who was still lying down, staring at the ceiling. Fred imagined the smirk on his twin's face just as George said it. Frankly enough, Fred wasn't wrong.

"_And_," George continued. "I should be the one asking why on earth are you awake in the middle of the night at hmm... about one o'clock? Nightmare? A lightning bolt scar hurting? Spider crawling up your arse?"

"_Or_..." Lee yawned, rubbing his eyes, and arching an eyebrow to his left at a frowning Fred. "Been wetting himself lately, eh?"

George guffawed and threw the pillow back at his attacker, hitting Fred right in the face. Lee sported a smug look as the moonlight from the nearby window shot him - annoying Fred all the more.

"_Shut it,_ you two." threatened Fred, pushing the pillow away to the ground. "I am neither experiencing _any_ of your profane guesses. And in case you both forgot, with those ickle brains of yours full of lewd images at night, it's my turn to nick food from the kitchens. I couldn't simply do that if I'm asleep, now don't I?"

"Point taken." Lee was still struggling to refrain from laughing as he nodded his head. After about five seconds, he sighed in surrender. "I _am_ hungry, though. But really... I'm more worried about what's to happen tomorrow. You two are actually going to do _it_? You two are actually going to leave everything behind? You're going to leave me all alone sneaking into the kitchens after you've gone?"

Tomorrow. Five o'clock. It almost slipped from Fred's rumbled mind. And hearing Lee's first ever admittance to worrying, Fred felt sick in the stomach. George, on the other hand, remained silent.

It was the plan. The twins had decided on it fully and without intention of backing out. They already placed their start-up loan (immense thanks to Harry) and got the deed on the premises, 93 Diagon Alley. Though it hurt them to leave their best mate behind, and everything as what was said, it was for the better future. Besides, there was no point staying without Dumbledore. Without the original rules. Without the original ambiance of Hogwarts now purposefully ruined by that pink toadface. _She_ banned them from playing Quidditch. _She_ made life miserable.

Fred was grateful for the firework stunt prior. No regrets, no anything. It was an adventure, a legend, worth telling to his soon-to-be children. If ever things turned out the way he imagined once the upcoming war would end.

"Ah, Lee..." George drawled after an awkward and eerie silence enveloped the dorm. "Since when have you started growing lady parts and wearing laced knickers?"

"Easy, mate." Fred chuckled, only half-heartedly. "Don't want lady parts growing on me too. Not to mention having a dam crack up in my eyes."

"I'm dead serious, you crazy gingerheads." countered Lee. He sat up in bed, rested his head against the board, and stared into the night. Taking it as a hint, the twins too shuffled in their separate beds and sat. George shook his head apologetically at Lee, while Fred shrugged. Soon, the latter scrambled up and slid himself under George's Christmas sweater (they exchange theirs quite every week). A night like this reminded the three mates earlier Hogwarts days planning mischief and mayhem. But it wasn't exactly that at the moment. They were young then, they were grown-up lads now.

"Well..." Fred started as he slipped into a pair of slippers beside his trunk. "I'm gonna get ourselves midnight meals then. George, you better find the countercurse to man Lady Jordan here."

With a quick nod to both, Fred stretched his arms and strode lazily out the dorm. George could handle the melodrama more than he did. It was a rarity to find Lee Jordan in such a situation. But to hell with it, the bloke made sense. It was the beginning of a goodbye, all of it, and Fred would rather choose to ignore the long heartfelt discussions only to regret them later. The twins, though they wouldn't confess even to themselves alone, still had the inclination to doubt and ponder on the lifetime consequences. And to think that tonight was their last night at Hogwarts, the night ending the Easter Holidays, they should truly be worrying about it more than anything else.

For the love of Godric, they were voluntarily kicking themselves out their second home. They were giving up education for the sake of a magnificently envisioned dream of theirs. The most of their worries, of course, was how the rest of the family would react. Especially their mum.

So as Fred Weasley descended the stairs into the Common Room, he was imagining the sorts of things their mum would reprimand them for ages. He was too engrossed in them that he didn't notice immediately the fireplace was still crackling alive and that there was one Gryffindor missing from her dormitory currently surrounded in a heap of books.

Hermione Granger was sleeping soundly on the sofa, her draping hand clutching an Arithmancy book. Another book, which Fred observed as none other than _Hogwarts, a History_, was covering the brunette's face. Hermione took shallow breaths and with them, the pages flicked and fluttered repeatedly.

Fred smiled at the view and without hesitation, approached the sleeping Hermione. He gently removed the book hiding her face and settled it down the nearest table. Hermione slightly flinched at the gesture, still deep in slumber, and adjusted herself on the sofa.

"Hermione..." whispered Fred, mirth glinting in his eyes. It was this reason that he and George intentionally kept it low during the holidays: for the fifth years to study for O.W.L.s and the seventh years on their N.E.W.T.s.

But mainly for Fred, it was for her sake that he suggested it to an oblivious George.

"Grindylows are dark creatures that... that..." Hermione muttered with her eyes closed. She often talked in her sleep. She usually recited the last sentence she had read in the middle of slumber. Fred chuckled at this, far beyond than amused, and tiptoed away from the sofa.

"I'll be back with some snacks, yeah?" he quietly asked and made his way to the portrait hole.

"S-sure."

He heard one last yawn, meaning she was finally awake (probably startled at having an unnoticed short conversation with someone), and exited the Common Room.

The castle halls were as dark as black velvet and with an illuminated wand in hand, Fred snuck into the easiest passage behind a tapestry to the kitchens. He swore, at times like this, that he was in desperate need of the Marauder's Map once more to keep a lookout for Filch and/or Mrs. Norris.

Then again, it didn't matter anymore if he were caught.

* * *

Fred managed to travel back and forth undetected in just under fifteen minutes - five as he went from the Common Room, six as he had a trouble choosing what snacks to get (the elves really wanted him to take as much, which he'd surely miss one day), and four the way back. He re-emerged through the portrait hole after saying the password, "Felix Felicis" to the disgruntled Fat Lady. He was actually carrying a lot in his arms from Bertie Bott's to Pumpkin Pasties that he put between his mouth a box of Chocolate Frog.

Sprinting across the Common Room, he momentarily forgot that Hermione was still there - already wide awake and deep in reading a textbook again. She looked up, dazed, and was about to ask him when Fred spoke - dropping the box stuck in his mouth.

"Hey, 'Mione." he winked and placed some of the treats on the table by the fire. "You should be sleeping. It's the end of the hols tomorrow."

Hermione frowned. Fred had no idea at all that she was still behind three chapters on her re-reading in History of Magic.

"I appreciate the advice, Fred, but-"

"Hang on." he cut her off mid-sentence, holding a hand up, and glanced at his sweater. "How d'you know I'm Fred?"

"_Honestly_," Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm not stupid with the whole exchanging-sweaters-bit. And besides, I've seen George sneaking too the other night. And Lee the other night before that. I just presumed it's your turn to do that now."

At that, it was also Fred's turn to be dazed.

"Always the bright one." he concluded with a mischievous grin. He picked all the boxes he thought would satisfy Lee and George's hunger, and carried them all to the boy's dormitories. Hermione, taking notice of the treats left on the table, raised an eyebrow at the top of her book.

Fred, taking in her confused expression, spoke as he started off to the stairs.

"Yours. You're gonna need them, Hermione. If you're gonna continue neglecting the pleasures of slumber."

"I don't need-"

"Don't make a fuss about it. They're perfectly safe. Weasley's honor." he nodded his head convincingly then disappeared.

Fred reached the top floor in quick by-two steps and rapped on the door immediately with his foot since his arms were too preoccupied to move.

"Here to serve His Royal Highnesses!"

With a creak, the door drew open revealing his twin who displayed a pleased look at the presence of food. Lee stood up on cue and helped Fred with the treats as all three settled down on the rug. George counted the boxes, murmuring, and squinted at Fred as he finished.

"Fell short of the supplies, Fred?"

"Yep." lied Fred curtly. "Mrs. Norris. Only scraped a bit."

Somewhat contented with the explanation, George dove down and began tearing the parcel of Pumpkin Pasties. Lee, meanwhile, was pigging on the left-over blueberry muffins from dinner.

Fred observed and pondered for a while. He was beginning to think of accompanying Hermione downstairs - much to his longing to strike a proper chat with her before he left. Even though he would definitely disturb her studying, he'd put up with the risk given that he wanted to make his last night memorable. He wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing.

It was stupid, yes, but he had already done all sorts of stupid and will keep doing so.

"Er..." he began, giving a cautious look at his mates. "I'd leave you two here for a moment."

"Wha- Why?" George asked with his mouth full. Lee merely glanced up with curiosity.

"Uh..." Fred hastily constructed the most fitting excuse and knelt over his bed in search for something relevant under it. "Hermione's downstairs and-"

When he was greeted by a chilling silence, he craned his neck around and peered at the gaping George and Lee - the latter dropping his muffin with a _thump_.

"Come off it. Not _that_!" blurted Fred defensively. "She's still up, and I thought I'd ask her to help me with _this_."

He pulled out a small metal cage in which a furry ball of purple was enclosed. The ball shook and revealed a tiny squashed head - resembling that of a Puffskein. It looked expectantly at its owner.

"But there's nothing wrong with Pip." George countered and eyed their first-ever successfully bred Pygmy Puff. They had a handful of advice from Hagrid. What did Fred need Hermione for?

"Yeah. Pip's doing well." agreed Lee with a hint of mock interest at his friend's sudden change of action.

"Well, yeah, except that it's just-" rambled Fred, disappointed at himself that he chose the most perfect timing to forget how to lie on the most sensitive topic concerning his life.

"Blimey, Fred." George almost whispered in surprise. "You didn't need to hide it from me. I _knew_ I saw it coming."

"Am I right in thinking-?" Lee swiped looks between the twins, catching on. George only turned to him, widened his eyes, and mouthed Hermione's name for Lee to hit it at full realization.

"Galloping gargoyles. I wasn't expecting _that_..."

"Me too. And to think he's supposed to be my twin..."

"All right, all right!" Fred surrendered and bolted himself back up - set to rush off the room with Pip in a cage just to avoid the confrontation he most feared would come. His red hair was tousled in separate directions due to his relentless grabbing. "Don't _ever_ tell a living soul. _Not_ Ron. No one but you two knows. And Pip here."

"Saying goodbye, then?" George smirked.

"A nice snog perhaps?" added Lee smugly.

"Yes and _no_." sighed Fred, and without a second glance, crept out the dormitory. He'd deal with the royal prats after.

He halted before stepping out of the stairs. A foot in the air, he gazed straight ahead and thought about retreating. What would he gain by commencing such stupidity? Affection? Acknowledgement? Oh right. He was opting for closure. He was hoping to get over whatever he was feeling by facing it.

Pip squeaked in his cage, causing Fred to return to reality. He sighed in exasperation, and at once, entered the Common Room. Hermione was still there, her now rather tamed hair buried in the same book. It didn't escape her eye that Fred came back.

"You could do the house elves justice by tucking in tonight so they can clean up, Hermione." said Fred as he approached the fireplace. He carefully put Pip's cage by the bottom of the scarlet sofa.

"Look who's talking." mumbled Hermione, scanning the pages over the Goblin Rebellions.

"Look who's not eating."

She narrowed her eyes at him and huffed before slamming the book covers shut. The edible treats were still lying at the table, obviously untouched.

"So!" Fred struck on the conversation and sat by the rug in front of Hermione, grabbing the closest box of Bertie Bott's. "Grindylows then? What about them?"

"Grindy- Oh."

"You were talking in your sleep. Blimey, doesn't that brain of yours ever stop working when your body does?"

He offered her the box which she just scrutinized. Hinting her doubts on the safety of the treat, Fred popped into his mouth a random cream-colored bean and as soon as his tongue tasted it, he regretted the act. He choked with disgust and reached for a bottle of butterbeer. Unscrewing it, he was as shocked to see Hermione giggling.

She was giggling.

"Vomit-" he coughed out as he took several swigs. "-flavor..."

"I never once liked those." she spoke, her giggles fading.

"Good." he inhaled deeply. "Good for you. But Percy had it worse though. He took two vomit-flavored ones _consecutively_."

At the mention of Percy, Fred stiffened. Hermione shuffled uncomfortably on her seating position.

"Uh-" the redhead was the first to veer from the potential subject of his git of a brother. "But seriously, 'Mione. Eat something. Here. A Cauldron Cake would do the trick."

Fred handed her the parcel. She took a slice and munched on the delicacy. It did calm her whirlwind of thoughts. She chewed on slowly, feeling the sensation of drowsiness crept through her. It had been hours since she last ate. Once everything that was occurring became clearer, she noticed the furry purple ball inside the cage observing her with its round and goggling raven eyes.

"What is it?" she asked excitedly. Pip squeaked with delight and wiggled inside in a failed attempt to leap into Hermione's arms.

"This, Hermione," Fred reached out and retrieved Pip. "is Pip the Pygmy Puff. The first member of his clan. Bred from a Puffskein. Not sure if it's illegal or not, but hopefully it will be when we try selling them in the shop. We still have to breed more though. And try different colors. Pink, probably. But that just reminds us of Umbridge."

"It's adorable!" Hermione exclaimed, not actually hearing all of Fred's explanation. She scooted over the creature and was about to pet it when she became wary. She glanced at Fred which he returned with a reassuring nod.

"Our first experiment that isn't harmful, trust me. The only things it does is cuddle and melt you with cuteness, really. We're still figuring out what it mainly eats. For now, it nibbles on paper." Fred continued on, indulging on the fact that he was the one being the know-it-all. But mostly he indulged on the registered fascination of Hermione. It wasn't everyday that she admired the twins' brilliance.

Her eyes twinkled as Pip lay on her lap, enjoying the warmth. She stroke its purple fur and let another giggle. Good thing Crookshanks was up in her room or else hell would have broken loose. Fred just watched her and thought how impossible it was not to like her. There was no way he would get over it. As she sat there, he would have instantly yielded to the fluttering in his stomach and to the racing beats of his chest.

But then he remembered why he was there in the first place.

"Genius." Hermione breathed. "You and George bred a miniature Puffskein. Just... wow."

"Thanks, 'Mione." Fred smiled sheepishly, running a hand through his hair embarrassingly. He felt his cheeks burn. Certainly, it wasn't the fire causing it. "Do you want to keep him?"

"_Keep_ him?"

"Yes... I mean if you want to. I don't mind."

"But how will you breed more if-"

"We work wonders, don't we? Surely George and I will find a way in no time."

She beamed at him. If Fred was stupid enough, he would have thought he was dreaming. This Hermione, the not-in-duty prefect Hermione Granger, was refreshing. If only she could be like that always. She wasn't a pretty bird. She was beautiful.

It was as though he knew her for the first time.

"Why are you doing this, Fred?"

It took him a second to realize he was sitting in the Common Room floor in front of his silly little crush.

"Why not?" he smirked.

"I just find it odd. You don't usually-"

"Talk to you properly?"

"Yes. And it's odd."

There was silence and they stared at each other - Hermione waiting for an answer, while Fred looked for one. He seized a Chocolate Frog for distraction's sake and fumbled with the box.

"Just part of the plan, Hermione." he said simply and took a bite. He checked the card - Newt Scamander. He had four of him already.

"So the plan then." she said, disappointment subtle in her voice. Fred pulled his knees to his chest and nodded like a sad child being told by his mother.

"Why you and George have been surprisingly quiet over the weekend." she resumed, putting the pieces of the puzzle together. "You're... you're really...?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

The giddy Hermione was gone. For a moment Fred thought she actually cared about his leaving, but shrugged it off. He had a soft spot for denials.

"Look, Hermione." he sighed. "We've been planning this for years. And besides, it's not only for us. It's payback for that Umbridge as well. It's revenge for Dumbledore. And Harry, well, we'll be doing him a favor for wrecking havoc so that he could talk to Sirius tomorrow."

"B-but... your N.E.W.T.s!" Hermione burst, making Pip jump from her lap. "Goodness, you're already in your last year in Hogwarts! It's almost the end of term! Oh, why can't you two just _wait_?"

She grunted, and the bossy witch in her shone forth. She was the prefect Hermione once more, now with a taint of Mrs. Weasley. Yet unlike before, he wasn't annoyed or begrudged by this. It was the total opposite.

"If you let us go-" said Fred cautiously, analyzing her display of temper.

"I won't-"

He scowled, but was impressed.

"Shush, Miss Granger. Just this once, all right?" he warned and lifted a hand to silence her. "If you let us go, we guarantee you can take whatever you want - absolutely free of charge - from the shop. Including _us_, George and I."

Garnering a look of disbelief from the brunette, rendered speechless for quite a while, Fred smiled smugly out of satisfaction.

"But... only one." he wriggled his eyebrows suggestively. "And if I were you I'd prefer the twin older by three minutes- OUCH!"

The instant response from Hermione, however, was a hard-earned slap at his head thanks to the book she was holding in a split second.

"Please, Fred! Now's not the time to make jokes!"

She hit hard. It reminded him of Snape as he elicited a short cry of pain. Recovering whilst rubbing the back of his head, Fred apologized.

"Sorry." he winced. "But _now'_s the perfect time to make jokes, 'Mione. If there's one thing You-Know-Poo, hey that's a brilliant one, can't ever take... that would be laughter."

Amazing how easily tables could turn.

"But you're _leaving_!" she remained persistent to argue, though she understood his point. If she went on like this Fred would be forced to think she really did care and kiss her to shut up.

Yet he knew he won't.

"Easy, love." he teased. "Judging by your reaction it may be safe to presume you're gonna terribly miss me."

"I will not!" Hermione was kneeling now. "I'm just... _ugh_!"

"Concerned?"

"_Pity_ would be more fitting! The consequences, the regrets that may come, the what-could-have-beens..." she gave up with a sigh and slouched on the carpet. Pip was running in circles around her.

Fred showed his most sympathetic expression and sighed as well. He leaned his back against the foot of the sofa and rested his head. There was no necessity to go through the same discussion of probabilities again. There may be doubts, but it was too late to cancel everything. He and George had become Oliver Wood for this one over the holidays - planning thoroughly with sheer determination that only Wood could influence them with.

"I'll miss everyone and everything of course." he said, peering at Hermione who returned to reading. When she merely squinted at him, he continued, even though he hated being melodramatic.

"Quidditch. Pranking. The Castle itself. Looking out for Ron and Ginny. And George sometimes." he enumerated one by one. "The food from the kitchens. This room. Sneaking out. The teachers we actually liked. Losing Gryffindor points, but winning the House Cup. Getting the prefects angry..."

When he meant prefects, it was just her.

"It is an honor to make people laugh." he finished and met her eye. "Let alone a rule-loving bookworm like you."

Fred's chest tightened. He was sure that last sentence was meant to stay as a thought. If Hermione realized this or not, she still quit scanning the pages of her book and lingered her gaze on him. She sent not a glare, but a look like someone told her she was the most mesmerizing woman in the universe. Which, on Fred's stance, he could tell in an alternate reality.

Blushing, she hid behind the hardbound covers again.

"If you meant _rule-loving_," she said, finding it hard to restrain her voice from shaking out of nervousness. He made her nervous as much as she disliked it. "Then I don't see any rules to love at all as of the moment."

He smiled - a genuine one. That line from Hermione Granger was worthy to be written in history books.

"Then you ought to break them." Fred whispered playfully.

"I've had enough rules broken, thank you very much." she took a quick glimpse and raised an eyebrow at him. "As you can see, the ruined Dumbledore's Army is proof."

"Ah, but that's the thing, Hermione. Dumbledore's Army is never really ruined."

"Yes it is."

"It isn't." he insisted and scooted near her. "Because we'll keep fighting. You could say that the D.A.'s for rebellious teens like us, and the Order's restricted for adults. Dad didn't risk his life fighting for what's good. We almost lost him."

Fred cringed. For a fleeting moment the memories of December came back through him like ice cold water. That worry was gone, and now he and George would bring another to the family.

"We shouldn't be talking about this." said Hermione. She shut her textbook and stood up. Pip lifted his anxious round eyes as if coaxing her to carry him. Hermione did notice this and cuddled him as she took the Pygmy Puff from the rug.

"Fair point." Fred mused and got up as well. He started arranging Hermione's books on the table: stacking them in a neat pile. He was betting it was a quarter past two already.

"Fred?"

"Hmm?" the redhead was picking up the remains of the wrappers and snacks from the wooden table and throwing them to a bin. He turned towards her.

"Just..." Hermione trailed off hesitantly. She was fidgeting on her position and getting the anxious look from Pip once more.

"'Mione?"

"Oh never mind." she forced a laugh and waved her free hand. "Just be safe tomorrow and... good luck."

"We don't need luck, Miss Granger." he winked. He should remind himself later to do that less often on her. "But coming from you I guess I can make an exception. We need luck once we face _mum_ though."

She scoffed and turned her back on him, ready to head off for the girls' dormitories.

"Good night then." she called out.

Closure. Getting over. Parting ways. The words tumbled through Fred's mind as she began to walk away. Daring. Nerve. The Sorting Hat's voice was as loud as ever in his ears.

_Anything's possible if you've got enough nerve_.

"Hermione, wait." he said and abruptly she faced him. "I-uh... You wouldn't mind, do you?"

"Mind what?" she asked softly.

"Hell, just forget it. It's pathetic, of course you'd mind. I'm going nutters anyway." he spoke as fast as he could and moved over to his own dormitory staircase. "Well, good night."

He was halfway to the arched frame of the stairs when she caught his arm. Fred spun around, forgetting how to breathe, and gaped. Surely this wasn't real. Hermione tried stopping him from escaping.

"What is it, Fred?" she demanded more impatiently.

"Hermione..."

"I perfectly know who I am, thanks."

"No, I-" he groaned and stomped his foot. He was a Gryffindor. He got nerve. It was possible.

"Are you all right?"

"HermionecanIkissyou?" he spluttered. At least he attempted to live up to Godric Gryffindor for this one petty situation. Or so he assured himself.

"I'm sorry, but what?"

"I'm not doing _that_. There are other forms to it, but yeah, can I?"

He wasn't even listening to her. He was making the biggest fool of himself and it was his own doing.

"Do exactly _what_, Fred?" she frowned, her speech incredulous. "I need to sleep just so you know."

Fred let out another groan and took a deep breath. Merlin, get him to fight a vicious dragon than say it out loud to the girl he had forbidden himself to fancy.

"I said..." he opened his eyes once he was eased. He stepped nearer, closing the gap, and towered over her. This picture was too vivid in his dream accounts to simply bypass. He was making it happen. Somehow.

Hermione just waited, also breathing hard, all sense of air leaving her system.

Swooping low, Fred muttered as low as possible, his eyes boring into hers.

"Can I kiss you?"

It was as though his breath caused her to be petrified. She did not move, but felt her knees giving away. He clenched his teeth guiltily and held her waist with one hand, the other rolled up in a fist before he could even punch the living daylights out of himself.

"It doesn't have to be that _way_, Hermione, just-"

But he didn't have the chance to make an excuse. Hermione was already standing on her toes, reaching to him. Blank from further thought or from the changes this act could entail, she pressed her lips to his cheek.

"Is this what you mean?" she whispered to his ear. He shivered and gulped, knowing that if she leaned back to look at him he would be in deep crimson.

Fred nodded and shut his eyes, reliving the feeling. It was nothing like happiness. It _was_ happiness.

"Thank you for asking permission, then." she kidded with a shy smile. "Merlin knows what I might have done if you didn't."

"Y-yeah." he stuttered with a chuckle. His grin didn't leave him when he pulled her closer, the hand on her waist shaking ever so slightly. "I meant _this_ too."

And he kissed her forehead with gentleness as though she would crumble if he did otherwise.

"For goodbye's sake." he added, releasing her, and opened his eyes. "Thanks, 'Mione."

In all honesty, if he was dreaming he'd rather stay asleep. Cheesy, indeed, but that's the only coherent logical reason to think if one was stepping on the shoes of Fred Weasley in the exact spot where he was.

"It is an honor to grant people their goodbye wishes." she said with that familiar faint smile he saw almost every night since he recognized his affections for her. "Let alone a rule-breaking prankster like you."

Fred flashed that lopsided grin of his at her comment. She gave his hand one last squeeze before turning around and heading back to the entrance of the girls' dormitories. He watched her disappear into the dark (and Pip too if it counted), and again he was left alone with his reckless thoughts. He was glad, ecstatic, but he knew within him that it was as sad a parting. He knew where she'd belong. He knew it wasn't him.

Pocketing both his hands into his pajama pants, Fred ascended the stairs. He started formulating what kinds of questions he'd get from Lee and George. Lee would probably rant incessantly about his being gallant and chivalrous once Fred would appear at the doorway looking un-snogged. George would most likely threaten him with a Beater bat, lecturing so and so that all was fair in love and war - that Fred didn't have to be the hero and let the damsel go. That Ron would understand.

But it _wasn't_ a war. It may be love, but it wasn't. And Ron _wouldn't_. Could Fred possibly promise that he'd be there for her at all costs like what his younger brother had been doing for the last five years? Could he promise that she even saw him the same way he saw her?

All Fred understood at a quarter past two in the Gryffindor Tower was that the goodbye stood for a far longer period than he or Hermione guessed. It was a goodbye to what could have been a magnificent tale. Poetic instinct possessing Fred as he told himself, it was an immediate goodbye to a hello.

And that it was better than the dreams he had because it was real. Even if it wasn't as detailed.

He understood those clearly. But he understood another one as he stopped in front of the door to his dorm room.

He understood that he wouldn't be sleeping at all for the rest of the night.


End file.
